Here Alone
by InnocentTraitor22
Summary: Tavington get a letter from his Wife. Song fic: Here alone from Little Women. OC/Tavington could possibly be a chapter fic if requested.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own The Patriot**

Colonel Tavington settled in his tent for the night with a sigh. The day had been long and several men had been lost to the "Ghost". He didn't dare removing his boot, in case they needed to move quickly, he didn't like being unprepared, and made sure that he was ready for any possible outcome, that is until this vigilante had caused chaos amongst the troops.

He let down his long brown hair and ran his finger through it deep in thought, He glanced at the trunk at the other side of the tent and notice a letter patiently waiting for him. He crossed the tent and picked up the envelope as if it were made of glass, it had been weeks since he had received word from his family, His wife Margaret, nick named Marmee, a mix of Mommy from his four daughters, and her first name. And his beloved daughters, Margo who was fourteen, Lucille who was ten and a pair of twins named Bridget and Kimberly who were six.

It had been a month since His family had been moved to Ohio, being promised land should they win the war. It was a wonderful opportunity, but having his family so close to the war made him anxious, fearing that one day he will get a letter not from his wife, but from the war office, informing him of their death.

With the blade of his knife he sliced through the wax seal carefully, Margaret's carful hand writing lopped and curled across the page,

_My dear husband…_

Margaret Tavington sighed and pulled on her apron, preparing to make the weeks bread, it was easier to buy it but, homemade was cheaper and kneading the dough calmed her nerves. She flinched as the sound of distant canon fire shook her to her core she peered out the window to view her children playing in the yard of their large home. She brushed her flour coated hands on her apron and rushed to the door, "Girls, come inside for a while." She called, counting each head as they filed into the house.

"Lucy, Margo, Bridget…" she tallied, "Where is Kimberly?" she asked, she marched out to the porch, "Kimberly?" she called, not response.

Panic filled her until she spotted a crop of wild brown waves dart out of the wheat field, "Kimberly Ann Tavington I specific told you to stay by the house," Margaret scolded her, "And you've ripped your dress, go change and bring it down to be mended."

Marmee muttered under her breath, "It should come today." Margo commented, "It always comes around this day."

As if one cue the thundering of hooves echoed down the dirt path outside the house, the girls rushed out the door in a frenzy, but Marmee settled for a steady pace, never one to let her extreme emotions show. She came from a family with money and was raised to act as such, just because she was in the colonies it didn't mean she could through pride to the wind and act wild.

"Ma'am" a young man of about seventeen wearing a bright red coat and a black tri-corn hat rode up on a brown stallion, "A letter for you Ma'am." He handed her an official looking envelope, "Thank you son, and your pay." She pressed a tip into the boy's hand, and watched his eyes light up with joy, "thank you Ma'am." He said furiously, He tipped his hat to her and winked at Margo, who swooned and giggled.

"Is that is it?! Is it here?!" the children talked over each other in a mass incoherent babble, Marmee rolled her eyes and let out a high pitched whistle, the girls quieted down and hurried into the house and gathered in the parlor.

Marmee sat in her designated high backed chair, next to a large chair that had remained empty since the beginning of the war, and would remain empty until it ended. The matriarch elegantly placed herself in her chair and opened the envelope slowly.

_My dear wife,_

_It has been exactly eight days since I received your letter, and I can glad to hear that you and the girls are settling in nicely. In your last note you informed me that Margo has become acquainted with girls in the town, I can only hope they share our views. I am impressed that Kimberly and Bridget have progressed so far in their lessons. And finally I wish to inform my dear Lucille that I plan on describing each native bird I have seen here for her sketch book, though I'm sure she has seen many on her own. _

_I must go, but I send my love to you all and I promise we will be together once again soon, _

_~Father._

"Alright girls, Off to bed with you all, it's late and you have lessons in the morning." Marmee shooed the protesting girls up the stairs in into their shared rooms. The twins in one room and the two eldest in the other. "Mommy?" a small voice called from the dark room, "Yes Kimberly?"

"When is Father coming home?" the child asked, "Soon dear."

"But why did he leave? No one has ever done anything bad to us." Bridget asked, from the other bed, "Father left, Father left because he is very brave, and he wasn't going to let the Colonies forget who was in charge. Now go to sleep." Marmee closed the heavy wooden door with a quiet click.

She walked down the Hall to the Master bed room that she shared with her husband. She stripped herself of her dress and petticoat, and dawned a cotton nightgown and pulled her house coat over it. She picked the letter back up and sighed, pressing the paper to her face and inhaling the smoky smell from the candle had and written it by.

"Oh Darling if only you knew how much we miss you." She sighed and sat at her stationary to write a reply.

She was always carful to make her letters entertaining, finding new way to keep his mind off the battle, telling him the small things the girls had done that week or new accomplishments.

_My Dear Husband._

_The girls practically trampled the poor letter carrier to get to your latest letter. Kimberly gave me a fright when she wandered off into the fields again today, she is so much like you William you would be proud, though I did get a note from her school master saying she beat up a boy for taking her doll. Margo has confirmed that her friend's parents are indeed Loyalists and Bridget has many new drawings for you to see. Every day the twins ask when their father will come home to us, but I tell them you are very brave and are protecting our country…_

The blasts of canons shook the house and Made Marmee jump, reminding her to be careful and not mention how close the fighting grew to their home each day. And how she often kept the children inside for fear of a sudden raid.

Marmee looked in the mirror by the door, She was only thirty seven, but she had tiny wrinkles from stress and small grey hairs scattered about her mass of amber curls, barely noticeable but to her they seemed huge. She never told him of the worry that plagued her at night, when the duties of every day live kept her from thinking about it. But sometimes she would go weeks without news and when a rider did come she prayed it did not bear a letter from William's superiors informing her of her husband's death.

_I am fine, I bake and care for the children and the house, the harvest will be late this year I think, or so the farm hands say. It is at this time of day I think of you the most, how you would make me laugh, and tell me everything will be fine. Williams I pray every night you come home safe to us and this wretched war will end. I pray to God to bring my husband back, to bring the girls their father back. _

Marmee's worst fear was raising her children alone, the thought of failing them was more than she could bear. Since William left Nights felt like years, and she wished she could march out onto that battlefield herself and bring home her husband.

_Come home safe, _

_Margaret, Margo, Lucille, Kimberly and Bridget _

"_The nights Seem so much longer, Now that I am here Alone" ~Little Women_


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own the patriot, this is a follow up song fic to the last chapter and is based on 'On my father's wings' from 'quest for Camelot'**

"Lucille are you up yet?" Margaret called up the stairs, "If you aren't dressed and down here in five minutes young lady, it'll be cleaning the stables for you today."

Within three minutes Lucille Tavington was washed, dressed and down stairs. "Mother can I play by the stream today?" she asked her frazzled mother, "Uh I don't know I have to go into town today and I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with you being that far from the house while I'm gone." Margaret rummaged about the living room, "where did I put my bonnet?" she muttered,

"But Margo will be here, and I won't be gone too long I swear." Lucille bargained, "Alright, Alright, But I want those chores done before I get home is that clear?" her mother grabbed her bag as a young boy brought a small cart around to the front for her. "Margo, Look after the girls while I'm gone, don't let the twins out of your sight if you go outside, and Lucille will be near the stream, Don't let anyone you don't know in the house, I'll be home soon."

Margo called down her confirmation and the house's matriarch left to town, "Alright, we have about three hours until she gets home, so let's get to work," Margo dawned her mother's apron and grabbed a broom, "Bridget, Kimberly go clean your room, and Lucy, you….." She never got to finish as Lucille darted out the door and towards the large clear stream a couple hundred yards away from their home.

It was good fishing, and the water was so clear you could see straight to the bottom, not that it was that deep maybe about three feet, four feet at the deepest. She removed her soft shoes and stocking, and stepped into the soft wet sand along the shore. The rough grains stuck to her feet as she dug in the sand for the perfect skipping rock.

He father had taught her how to skip when she was seven, back in England that it. Lucille knew for a fact that her father would like the stream by the house and planned on bringing him there as soon as he returned from the war. Margo didn't really believe that he would come home, but she pretended to be happy for the rest of the family, while the little ones asked about him every day. Their father had to leave when they were just two. Margaret remained hopeful of her husband's return, despite not seeing him for four years.

She finally found a suitable rock, flat and the sides smoothed by the running water. She took aim and managed to get three good skips in the running water of the stream. She sighed and looked around before hiking up her skirts and sliding her feet into the freezing cold water. She stared into the rippling waters as she daydreamed of when her father was still with them.

Lucille seemed to be the only one in the family who shared her father's love for hunting, it was often said around their town that the Colonel didn't need a son with a girl like Lucille, Who was willing to do anything unladylike.

Her mother would often scold them both, Her father for encouraging and Lucille for acting in such a way. But the Colonel would remind Lucille that she could do anything because she was a Tavington and Tavingtons never say die.

One day when Lucille was five a group of days had stolen her favorite doll, which resulted with her tutor having to fetch her mother from the market because Lucille had given one boy a black eye and pushed another in a pond. Her punishment was three hours of embroidery with Margo and barring from the stables. When her father came home that night and heard of her battle, he took her aside and while informed her that violence was not befitting a young lady, she was not to be punished for standing up for her self.

Lucille dreamed of enlisting as an army nurse when she grew up, instead of staying home and doing nothing. Margo was the eldest, she was expected to marry and have children, But Lucille refused to be constrained by such things. She wanted to help the men In the war not be stuck in some dead end marriage.

She eyed her horse Gwen who was tied to a tree, she was an old horse who had once been rode by her father into battle, Lucille sometimes wished she could be like Gwen, no one cared if a horse was a boy or a girl as long as it could pull it's weight.

Margo disagreed with her sister's dreams, feeling there was nothing more wonderful that to fall in love and get married like their mother did. But Colonel was told Lucille that Margaret and William's marriage was arranged from the time they were young, and that they grew to love each other after only meeting on their wedding day. Margaret had resented him at first but after fifteen years of marriage they lived each other dearly.

"Lucille!?" Margo called over the glen, "Mother will be home soon and you still haven't done your chores!" Lucille groaned and rolled her eyes. "Mother will have a fit if you've stained your stockings!" she scolded as Lucille pulled on the heavy white stocking and her shoes, "Yes yes yes." She muttered and mounted her horse, properly, not in side saddle like Margo. "You'll never get a husband if you keep acting like that.

"Good."

Lucille nicked Gwen's sides and shot off to the house leaving her sister in the dust, "Wait!" Margo followed her. Suddenly Lucille stopped to a screeching halt. A mod of soldiers in red uniforms sat outside her house. "Oh my God." Margo rode up beside her, "What are we going to do?" Lucille whispered, "What do you mean they're obviously our kind of people." Margo hopped of her horse, "Wait Margo What are you doing?!"

"Hello." Margo curtsied properly, "Hello Miss, is your mother home?" an older man asked them looking down. "No she's gone to town." Lucille said leading both horses to the stables. "I see." He grunted and turned back to Margo. "Young Lady, where do your loyalties lie?" he asked.

"To king and country sir" Margo practically chanted.

"What is the meaning of this?!" they all turned to the parked carriage which held a pale, disturbed looking Mrs. Tavington.

"What it your business here?"


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own the patriot please not that this chapter isn't really based on a song, but the majority of them will be.**

Margaret stormed up to the man apparently in charge, "Girls, go find Bridget and Kimberly." The young girls stood still in a daze, "Now." She whispered sharply. The girls ran past other officers and into the house. "Something doesn't feel right." Lucille whispered, "Mother would never be that nervous around soldiers." Margo agreed as they watched from the younger girls' bedroom window.

"Sorry to disturb your home ma'am, but we are in need on shelter." The one in charge informed her, He had brown hair and tan skin, around forties to early fifties. "How many of you are there?" Marmee asked eyeing the men in her yard. "There are fifteen of us in all Ma'am, and my men and I are capable of sleeping anywhere. I assure you." Marmee shook her head "Yes I uh, there is plenty of room and spare cots in the stables, and my daughters and I will provide food for you and your men." She figgeted her fingers while she spoke.

"You seem nervous ma'am are you alright?" he asked her, "Oh yes, yes, I'm fine, I uh…" she sighed, "It's just been awhile since we have hosted any troops, what did you say your division was again?" she brushed hair away from her face, "The twenty third Infantry Division ma'am." He stated, "yes and you're name and rank?"

"Colonel Parker ma'am."

She nodded, "Yes well um." She turned "Cedric?" she called into the field. A young field hand scampered out of the wheat, "Would you kindly show these men to the stables and ready fifteen cots for them please?" she said with a kind smile. "yes'm" he nodded, "this way sir."

The man led his troops to the stables and Marmee rushed into the house, "Girls come down here quickly." She called up stairs, her daughters wasted no time trampling down the stairs, "Mother are those British troops?" Kimberly asked quickly, "Do they know Father?" Bridget followed up

"Girls, I want you to stay in the house and away from those men, Lucille, Margo you are not to let the little ones be alone with them is that understood." Margo instructed them, "Margo I wish to speak with you alone for a moment." She pulled her eldest aside out of ear shot.

"Margo you are fourteen now and I need you to be an adult for tonight, look out for your sisters and whatever you do, do not allow them to speak of your father in the presence of those men, do you understand?" Margaret loaded her daughter with instructions, Margo blinked and then nodded, "I think so." She said breathlessly,

Marmee pulled Margo into a tight embrace, "I am so proud of you my dear,"

"Mother are those men really British soldiers?" Margo asked in a hushed whisper, Margaret stared into her daughter's eyes, "I don't know." She whispered, "be brave." She kissed her forehead and stood up to adjust her dress. "So have you all done your chores?" she said loudly to alert the younger girls who she knew were trying to listen in.

On cue three pairs of feet scattered upstairs to finish any chores left neglected, with a half smile Marmee retrieved her dust apron and began to shuffle about the kitchen, she peered out the window and spotted one of the farm hands, a boy of about eighteen named Joseph, she tapped the window glass and waved her hand to get his attention. Once he was staring at her she beckoned him into the house, "Joseph, I need you to take a horse and take this letter to the war office in town a few miles from here, do not let the men who just arrived see you is that understood?" she handed him a small folded note. "if you do it quick, there will be a tip in it for you." He nodded and looked over his shoulder.

After he had left she rushed to the wood shed, the shed was small and rotting with a hot musky smell surrounding it, she looked around and slipped in. She rolled several logs around until she found what she was looking for, a small bundle of cloth wedged between the logs, she grabbed the package and unwrapped the cloth, inside was a small flint lock pistol and a dagger. She lifted her skirt and nestled the pistol into the petticoat and hooked the dagger sheath around her thigh to keep it hidden under her skirts.

She grabbed an armful of wood to seem less suspious and locked the shed behind her. "Pardon me Ma'am." She jumped and nearly dropped the wood when a young man called her attention. She turned to face him, he was young, with blonde hair and high cheekbones. "My superior wanted to thank you for your hospitality," Margaret smiled kindly, "No trouble young man, I will be bringing you men nourishments in a bit." She informed him, "Thank you ma'am."

She returned to the house and set down the wood stack, "Mrs. Tavington." she turned, "shh." She hushed Joseph, "Joseph please, don't mention my name, just call me ma'am" she whispered, "Yes Ma'am, a letter from the war office," he handed her an envelope with a wax seal. "Yes thank you." She said plucking the paper from his hands.

She closed the window and pocketed the letter, she ran outside, took fifteen apples from the tree and sliced an equal amount of bread and beef. She placed then all in a basket and began to walk towards the stables. Margaret opened the door and walked up the "Colonel Parker" in command.

"Colonel?" she called to him, "this should be enough for all of your men" she handed him the basket, "Thank you ma'am, I speak for all of my men when I say you are a patron of kindness." She curtsied politely and left the stable as fast as she could without seeming nervous. As soon as she got to the house she removed the letter from her pocket and cut through the seal.

_After looking into your suspicions we have confirmed that there are not British troops in your area at the moment. Whomever is at your residence is no friend to you or your family, Stay put and do not arouse any suspicion for the sake of your family. We will send troops to your home tonight._

Margaret read the letter over and over, her first instinct was to get her children as far away as possible, it there was going to be a fight, she didn't want to be in the cross fire. But she knew is she suddenly just left with the children this late at night, it would tip off the militia men. She grew up around army men and could tell the difference from enlisted men and volunteers. The volunteers had less discipline with slouched shoulders and a habit of muttering amongst themselves. Plus the uniforms were too ragged and torn, most likely stolen from dead bodies.

She lit a tall candle and walked slowly up the stairs, she opened the twins' door and peered in on them, she nodded satisfied that they had settled in for the night, and the walked down the hall peered into the older girls room, Lucille had dozed off and was hanging half off the bed while Margo was reading by candle light. "Hey," Margaret whispered in. "Mother!" Margo whispered/yelled and snapped her book closed, "are they imposters? Do we have to leave?"

"Shh shh shh." Margaret hushed her, "No the army will be sending some men here to check up on us later tonight, and, god forbid, we do have to go, we just go visit in town" Margaret sat at the end of her bed. "Ugh, buy smells like garlic and she always calls me Leslie." Lucille moaned from her bed. "I thought you were asleep." Margo said. "I was." Lucille grumbled.

Marmee smirked and walked out of the room while her girls bickered between each other. 


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own the Patriot**

Margaret dozed by the window with a book half open in her lap. "Mummy" a small voice whispered, "Mummy wake up." She opened her eyes to meet with a pair of steely grey eyes. "Kimberly? What time is it?" she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Mummy there are men with lights coming this way." She whispered in a childish voice. Margaret shot up, "go get your sisters poppet." She led her by the hand up the stairs, Kimberly went into her bedroom to wake up her twin while Marmee hastened into the older girls' room. "Margo, Lucille, wake up girls we must hurry."

The two eldest grumbled and groaned, "Mother it's the middle of the night." Lucille complained, "men are coming girls you must wake." Marmee hurried them. Margo shot up, "Lucille come on." She said quickly. "Mummy?" Margaret turned quickly, "Girls come in here and stay with your sisters. Do not come down until I come for you do you understand?" she asked, Snapping closed all the curtains and snuffing out the candles except for two.

A series of sharp knocks echoed through the house, "not a sound." She whispered and closed the bedroom door behind her. The knocking grew impatient as she hurried down the stairs as fast as her skirts and the large candle she held would allow. She opened the door to face five men in red coats and carried torches. "Good evening madam, are you ?" the man in the front asked. "Yes, have you come about the…" she led off glancing towards the stables, "Problem?"

"yes ma'am may we come in?" he asked, removing his hat. Margaret eyed the torches, "Uh.." the man turned, "Oh yes, put out those lights before they see us!" he ordered the men, who complied quickly. Marmee led them in quickly, constantly glancing at the stable in the distance. "How many men are there?" the leader asked.

"The one in charge told me fifteen, but I never got around to a head count." She lit a few more candles around the room. "Are there others with you?" she peered out the windows before snapping the drapes closed once more. "Yes ma'am we have twenty more men around the bend. You sad in your letter there are children in the house, do you have a place to stay if things should turn sour?" One of the otherwise silent men informed her.

At the possibility things could turn ugly Margaret's eyes widened noticeably. "However it is unlikely that things will not go as planned." The leader cut in, dolling out a nudge to the ribs to the other solider.

"Yes, M-My daughters are upstairs."

"Can you describe the man in charge for us?" Margaret thought "uh, Tall maybe 6 feet, very tan, he spoke like a colonial, that's how I could tell he and his men weren't real, they said they were an infantry division. He was maybe mid-forties to early fifties. With uh brown hair and blue eyes. He said his name was colonel Parker." She finished off, all the while pacing the room from one end to another.

"Did they threaten you or your family in any way?" Margaret shook her head. "No, no nothing like that."

"Okay ma'am, We are going to bring our men closer to the house you and your children will be snuck out of the house, if you would kindly bring them down please. Take only what you need nothing more" The leader instructed her. Marmee rushed up the stairs to the room and opened the door, "Girls grab a bag, and take only one dress, follow me." She instructed them, "Quickly now spit spot." They wasted no time and soon all the children were ready. Margaret snatched their shawls off the pegs and wrapped them all in their wraps, "Follow me and stick together" she whispered, "Margo, Lucille take one of the twins and do not let go."

The woman rushed her children down the steps, "Mother do those men know father?" Lucille asked quietly, "I don't know darling, but there's no time to ask."

"Is everything ready Madam?" the leader asked, "Our men are on their way now. Have you your own wagon?"

"Yes it's around back in the shed," Margo piped, only to given a look from her mother. "Very good, Private O'Connor" one of the silent men stepped forward, "Accompany these woman to the wagon and into the town."

The leader leaned into the private's ear. "Shot anyone who tries to stop you, if the Colonel's family is harmed it will be all our heads." He whispered, only the private and Marmee could hear. "Alright girls let's go." She whispered and steered them to the back door, "Where are we going mummy?" Bridget asked, "Into town honey, we are going to visit ." she explained, leaving out a few choice details.

"Hurry now, we mustn't dely." The man stopped them at the back door and looked both ways, "All clear" he waved them out. Marmee lifted the small ones into the back of the wagon, Margo and Lucille followed them, "Get under the blanket." Marmee whispered, "Bridget, Kimberly, I need you to be very very quiet okay?" the girls nodded and huddled in the back of the wagon, covered in a large blanket.

"We must hurry Ma'am" the man reminded her. She nodded and climbed up into the side seat beside him, "Want me to drive?" she asked, "no, no ma'am, best leave this to me." Marmee quirked an eyebrow at him but just sighed, "Very well."

They set off in the wagon down an old dirt road that led directly to Town. They rode in peace for a bit and Margaret began to think all was clear. Until a ruckus from the woods directed their attention to the east. The night was dark and all one could see was black masses against a grey backdrop. "I'm sure it was just a deer Ma'am." The solider assured her.

She smiled an obviously unconvinced half smile. Another ruckus from the woods made them all jump, "Maybe we should speed up a bit." She suggested.

"shh, did you see that?" she whispered pointing off to the side, "where." They stopped, "watch." They stared into the woods. After about a second they saw movement a few yards away. "Stay here." The man told her, and reached for his rifle, jumping from the wagon and stomping to the woods, "Who's there?" he called, "Show yourself!"

"Stand down solider." Margaret frozen instantly, no it couldn't be…

Kimberly and Bridget's heads popped out of the wagon.

"Father!"


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own the Patriot **

Margaret climbed down from the wagon in a shocked daze. The children filed from the wagon, the twins first then Lucille and Margo last. "Father!" the twins rushed him and clung to their father's waist. "You're back!" they squealed. Lucille paused for a moment then followed suit, "You're home." She said gleefully.

"How are my little ones?" he asked them, leaning down a bit to gather him daughters. Lucille turned to a stunned Margo. "I told you! I told you he would come back." The colonel stared at Margo who stared right back like she was looking at a ghost, "Hello Margo." He whispered. She blinked away tears and rushed her father wordlessly.

Marmee stood aside as the children reunited with their father, whom they hadn't seen in four years. Slowly the children pulled away and William turned to Margaret. She stood, mouth agape, her entire body seemed to have slowed down. "Hello darling." He stepped forward. She opened her mouth to reply but the only sound that came out was a breathy gasp.

"Mother?" Lucille whispered. Without a single word Margaret raced forward as fat as her skirts would allow and embraced her husband. "William." She whispered. "I'm here darling." He replied. She grabbed at his jacket and felt his hair, trying to assure herself it wasn't a dream, that he was here, and he wasn't going to disappear like he always did when she woke up. He looked exactly the way he did four years earlier, only now more ragged, with slight bags under his silver eyes and disheveled hair.

"B-but how?" she asked, "The Dragoon's camp is just a few miles away from here. When I heard word of a Militia men in a house nearby, I knew it had to be you." He replied. She laughed, quietly at first, then it was a joyful laugh, she pulled away and kissed him repeatedly, "Only you would ride miles, in the middle on the night. Without any solid proof we were in danger, to rescue us." She sighed.

"Mummy!" Kimberly shrieked, Marmee's head shot up and looked where her daughter pointed, A few hundred yards away, the thundering of hooved and the shine of torches glowed in the distance. "It's them." Margaret whispered, "Children get in the cart now!" she ordered. Margo helped the younger girls into the cart and climbed in.

"I have an Idea!" William, "You take the children away on foot, I will lead them off." He explained. "What? No!" Margaret protested, "William they'll kill you!"

"there's no choice Margaret!" he rushed, lifting the children from the wagon. "Go east and stay out of sight." He ordered, and climbed into the driver's seat. "Go now! I will meet you there." Margaret turned to the girls. And back to him, "You're lying."

He grinned, "You always knew me too well." He cracked the whip and the horses shot off. "Come on let's go." Margaret ushered the children into the woods, she stopped and took out the pistol she had been hiding under her skirts, "Mother!" Margo gasped, scandalized. "But what about father?" Lucille protested.

Marmee ignored her, "Everybody grab hands and stay together." She ordered and they began to trample through the thick woods. The children cried out as thorns and thickets nipped at their arms and legs, but Margaret pressed them on with gentle encouragement. Soon they reached a clearing where they stopped, out of breath, "Mummy, where are we going?" Bridget asked. "Just a bit further Poppet, I promise" she assured her.

After catching their breath, the five of them set off once more, soon they reached the outskirts of the town. "follow me." She whispered. She lifted her skirt and holstered the gun once more, not seeing any need for it now.

They rushed up to the front door of Ms. Ramona Whitlock, and elderly woman who was half blind and hard of hearing, but had a large heart of gold. She was one of the few who had retained loyalist views and sympathized with the young mother raising four young girls.

"Mummy I'm tired." The twins complained. "Just a few more feet darlings," Margaret rapped on the wooden door.

opened the heavy door in a dressing gown and sleeping cap. "Margaret, what on earth are you doing here?" she asked. " , Please our house was taken over by Militia men, My children are half dead and we need a place to stay, only for the night." The mother begged.

The old woman looked past the desperate woman the eyed the sagging twins who practically fell limp in the arms of their equally tired older sisters. "Oh you poor dears, come in, come in." she ushered them into the warm house. "Poor little darlings." She cooed over the sleeping twins. "You can sleep in the guest room upstairs."

"Thank you ma'am" Margaret repeated over and over, "Calm yourself child." The elder patted her hand, "Let's just these little ones to bed."

Margaret managed to corral the children into the room, "Alright, Girls you will all have to share the bed and I will sleep in the rocking chair," there were not protests, they were all too tired. as soon as they hit the bed they were sound asleep.

cleared her throat and pulled Margaret from the room and led her down stairs. "Now." She sat down on the arm chair in the living room, "What has happened?" she asked expectantly. Margaret sat down on the couch and fought to stay awake. "Yesterday some men came and claimed they were British troops, I let them in and gave them quarter, but I sent a letter to the war office asking if any of their men were in the area. They said no, and that they would send men to my home to escort us out of the house and into town for protection." She sighed.

"Halfway down the road, We met up with my Husband and the Militia men were tailing us. William took the wagon and led them off the trail while I brought the children here." She was suddenly gripped with gut chewing worry for her husband.

Ms. Whitlock nodded, "I see." She sighed, "Don't you worry child, I'm sure he is fine."

As if on cue, the rattle of a wagon and the pound of hooves made Margaret jump to her feet and rush outside. She rushed into her husband's arms as he pulled up the house. "I feared I wouldn't see you again." She whispered into his chest. "Oh darling, what little faith you have in me." He laughed.

"Now. " she sighed, "Come inside." She pulled his hand. "I wish I could Margaret but I have to get back." She stopped, "What do you mean back, aren't you staying with us?" she asked with false hope.

He sighed, and grabbed her hand, "Darling, the men need me." He said. "Yes well so does your family William." She said in a falsely cheerful tone.

"Margaret." He began.

"William, your children need their father, I need my husband, it's been four years, how much longer must we wait?" Her words grew in volume and speed. "M-Margaret, Darling you're being ridiculous." He muttered, "No." she laughed bitterly, "No, I think I am reacting in a perfectly reasonable manner."

"Margaret." He grabbed both sides of her face, "you knew what me going to war would entail…."

"War, war, war, war." She whispered over and over, "This bloody war that had absolutely nothing to do with us!" She shouted the last part, "Why?" she asked hopelessly, "Why did you have to run off and then uproot out children to drag us down here."

"To have a better life for us!" he responded angrily, "To give our children a better life." He sighed and brushed the hair away from his face, "when this war is over, England intended to patch things up so to speak, with the colonies, when they do the new aristocracy will be and owners, and General Cornwallis himself has offered us a large amount of land." Margaret calmed herself and regained her cool head. "I can not return to England after this with honor, and when we win, you, myself and the children, will live better than we could ever imagine."

Marmee blinked away tears that threatened to spill down her face, William sighed and pulled her into his arms. "I Love you darling, I would never cause you grief. And I promise to come home to you all soon."

She breathed him in until he let go and unhitched one of the horses, to return to camp. "Don't be too brave." She whispered As he rode off.


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own the Patriot, this will be a bit of a background chapter, with some useful info for future chapters. By the way, as the movie fan I am, I have snuck some references to popular Movies into the chapter, see if you can spot any of them! Enjoy! **_"Italicized is the past" _and this is normal._**Oh and one more thing I feel the need to put a trigger warning on this one so I will put a warning in story where you can stop reading it if you want.**_

Margaret leaned back in the wicker rocking chair and listened to the deep breathing of her sleeping children, piled haphazardly on the bed. She was dead tired, yet found that sleep was unwilling to grant her it's sweet escape. So to fill the silence she thought back to when she was young, the daughter of a once wealthy, now bankrupt merchant.

_It was often said around the town that Margaret had a dowry of Mahogany, Diamonds and Pearls, only the Mahogany grew from her head, the Diamonds shone in her eyes and the Pearls lay in her smile._

_After going Bankrupt it was her father's main goal to have her married off to a rich family. Many young, handsome men volunteered, until they heard the young woman speak with such pride, and debate with such ferocity, that the courtship seldom last more than a few weeks. _

_Soon her father decided it was best for all involved that the suitors not meet his daughter until it was almost final. But even that didn't work, until a General approached him about joining the families through the marriage of the General's son and the Merchant's daughter._

_When Margaret learnt that she was to be married to a complete stranger with in the month, she was furious, she refused to eat for days, and she would never leave her room. This hunger strike did not end until she collapsed in the middle of Mass one Sunday from hunger. Eventually her Grandmother traveled to London from the countryside, sat her down and convinced her that there was no way out of the marriage. _

"_Margaret Grace Brindle, this foolishness must stop immediately." A frail old woman in a burgundy dress marched into the girl's room and rapped on the oak bed post with her cane. "You are seventeen years old, it is time you stop acting like a child." She scold the befuddled girl who had just been rudely awakened in the dead of the night but an old woman banging on her bed frame._

"_Huh?" she rubbed her eyes and her grandmother sat herself in a rocking chair by the window, "Now, what is this nonsense about you not wanting to get married?" _

_Once Margaret was able to make since of the situation at hand she sat up indignantly and crossed her arms, "Grandmother, I have no intention of getting married to a person whom I have never even seen." She said firmly, "such insolence" her elder scolded, "I would never have expected such disobedience from you Margaret, who has always known her duty." _

_Margaret scoffed, "Grandmother you have lived without a husband for years, why must I get married when you have proved to me that a woman can live without a man." _

_The Grandmother sighed. "Margaret you think I do not understand your reluctance but I know exactly how you feel, but you know that it is a woman's place to have a husband and children, to carry on her family line. Or her learning is all for not." _

"_This conversation is all for not." Margaret muttered under her breath,_

"_Now you listen here young lady, you are going to go to that church in three days, you are going to get married to a young man with whom you will give your parent's grandchildren and myself great grandchildren. Is that understood?"_

_Margaret hung her head, "Yes grandmother." She whispered, her chin was lifted by a thin cold hand, "You will understand in time my child." _

_Three days later, Margaret, dressed in her wedding finery, met her husband to be. He was three years older than she was. In this way she was lucky, she could have been married off to a man twice her age, which was not uncommon. Instead he was a handsome, with silver eyes and dark brown hair. He was at least six feet tall, and obviously from a military family. _

_However, Handsome as he was, Margaret was not willing to be won over by a pretty face and charming smile. She stood ridged and straight, "You don't look happy my darling," her father noted, "Should I be?" she asked coldly, "Brides often are I'm told." He sighed, "Please don't be angry darling." _

_She did not respond. She gazed into a mirror, her dress was pure white, as was traditional. The bodice was a V shape that flooded out into the skirt. Her corset was ridiculously tight and the train obnoxiously heavy. _

"_Oh Margaret." Her mother cooed, "You look lovely." She adjusted the dress, "I feel ridiculous" she grumbled, her mother gave her an exasperated look, "Margaret It's marriage, it's not the end of the world." _

"_Alright, it's time."_

_The ceremony was without romance, it was formal, awkwardly so. The reception was short, and soon the newlyweds were off to the home what had been given to her now husband as her dowry. _

"_So." He was the first to speak since the wedding, once they were alone, "You're Margaret." He eyed her up and down, "And you're William." She noted, "Now that we are done stating the obvious." _

"_Ooh, not very friendly." He whistled, outside the night was growing dark, and Margaret sat fidgeting with her dress strings. William sighed and slowly sat on the bed beside her, "Look." He sighed, "I don't like this any more you do." _

_Margaret slid away from him when he sat on the bed, "you don't have to fear me Margaret." _

_She sat a bit straighter, "Sir assure you, Fear is not in my vocabulary." She said proudly, crossing the room to a mirror and pulled pin after pin from her hair and let it fall down her back, "no" he shook his head and came up behind her, _

"_But it is in your eyes." _

_She turned quickly, ready to flee if she felt the need but he caught her wrist, roughly at first, making her yelp with shock and pull away. _

_He kept a firm hold on her and she gazed at him with a fearful but proud glare. "I will not force you into anything my dear, but rest assured that I will not tolerate any disrespect." He glared right back at her. They stayed locked this way for several moments, a battle of wills. Margaret was the first to concede, she was going to live with this man for the rest of her life, so they might as well try to get along._

Margaret looked at her sleeping children, particularly at Margo, who had been a blessing. Her and William have been married for twenty years, but the first eight years had been the hardest. With in the first two years, Margaret first became pregnant. But the pregnancy was difficult, and it would haunt the couple for the rest of their lives.

"_William stop fretting." Margaret lay on her back, a book propped against her swollen, seven month stomach, "are you sure you're okay?" he asked once more, Margaret had become ill, with a high fever and headaches. "It's just a cold, I am fine." She patted his hand. "You said your family has had a history of difficult births, how can we be sure this one will be different?" he paced the floor, _

_She sighed and closed the book, it was late, "Darling come to bed." She patted the mattress beside her, "Can't sleep, not tired." He waved her off, "William Fredrick Tavington, it is nearly midnight, you are tired, and you barely slept last night, I felt you keep getting up." She crossed her arms. _

"_Fine, just don't agitate the baby." He concede and lay next to her, "only if you don't agitate the mommy." She turned her neck and leaned on his shoulder. "There are nurses on the grounds just in case, you made sure of that, and it still have two months to go, it'll be fine." She kissed his cheek and pulled the blanket up, "Get some sleep, promise?" she asked, "Promise."_

_**(Alright this is your warning, there is sensitive material ahead and you can probably geuss what it is, so read at your own risk I will not be held accountable for anything that happens after you read this far!)**_

_Margaret snapped awake with a gasp as a sharp pain shot up her back, she grabbed William's hand she shook it. "William! William wait up." She said loudly. "Huh? What?" he asked half awake. "Something is not right." She was cut off by another sharp pain. Her husband quickly ran downstairs to the midwife that her family had hired to stay with them. Half a second later a middle-aged woman in an apron followed by two younger women entered the room in a panic, "Close the door and light a fire." The older woman ordered._

"_She's not due for another two months." William stood by his wife, who was crushing his hand. "Tell that the hit!" Margaret barked, "Sir, you must leave the room." The midwife insisted. "No, please let his stay!" Margaret protested, scared out of her mind. The mid-wife nodded, "Fine."_

_After 15 hours of Hell, during which Margaret blacked out several times, it was finally over, and she was allowed to sleep. She slowly woke up the next day, sore and feverish. Doctors flocked around her, her survival was doubted. But slowly her health returned, and three days after the birth, she could finally form a coherent thought._

_She woke up in a brightly lighted room and looked around, it was the middle of the day. A maid rushed in and gasped then rushed out once more. "Margaret!" William rushed in followed by the maid, "William, what happened?" she asked, her memories of the past three days blurred and distorted. _

_The room grew silent and the maid hastened from the room. "Margaret I…" he trailed off. And she felt something wasn't right, she looked down, and her baby bump was gone. She blinked a few times. "No." she whispered, "William…." She stood up._

"_Tell me something, tell me I'm wrong please." She grew hysterical. He remained silent and She felt a sudden hot flash of rage. "Say something!" she shrieked, "I am sorry Margaret." He confirmed._

_No one had to say it, it was clear what had happened, it was a part of life and she knew it was a possibility it would happen, but this was different. Now it had actually happened. A black shadow had fell over her, it smothered her and she felt like she was drowning in tar. _

_But she didn't say anything, she didn't move, she barely breathed, she felt like screaming, like sobbing, but she couldn't, she felt numb. _

_William walked slowly to her, like she was made of chine and might break, and at this point she very well could have. It was like she was going through the first four stages of grief over and over again, shock, pain, anger and depression, in a never ending cycle._

_Slowly she started feeling again, after weeks of numb pain, she had reached what was called the Upward turn, Her life regains a bit of order to it. People still eyed her as if she might crack at any moment, but one couldn't blame them. William barely left her side while she recovered from her trauma. He mother visited her and after about five months, she had pulled herself together enough to carry on with life._

_Five years later, She became pregnant with Margo and Fear set in. Doctors stay at the house sometimes, and she was never to be alone. Nine months later, they were blessed with a healthy baby girl, followed by Lucille four years after that and after another four years, the twins were born. _

Margaret felt her face and found it wet with tears, she wiped her cheeks, suddenly she was glad that they had moved, a fresh start was exactly what they needed.

The sun began to rise in the east as Margaret struggled to get at least a few hours rest. Lord knows she needed it. The Children began to wake and Margaret sighed, back to work.

**Wow okay that was a lot darker than it was intended to be and I am sorry for that, but you know, arranged marriage was the norm and young mothers often lost children in the 1700s, but thankfully, with modern medicine, such tragedies are less common. I hope you enjoyed that and I promise to God the next chapter will be much less depressing. I just felt like the story needed some background, please don't hate me for this, It hurt me to write a lot more than it hurt you to read.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own the Patriot **

Margaret strolled down the town market with a brown wicker basket hooked in one arm. She had left the children in the care of a neighbor while she went to Market. Earlier that morning she had received a message that said that by the end of the day her and her children could return to their home. Thankfully there had been little damage done to the house, except a few bullet holes and scorch marks.

Merchants hawked their goods in the warm spring air as she stopped at an apple stand. She ignored the varied looks she gained from the other patrons, along with the mutters. Being the wife of the infamous "Butcher" came with some baggage, but she had learned to live with it, though Margo found it frustrating that no boy would dare flirt with the Butcher's daughter, the younger children how ever did not understand what their father did for the army, only that he was a brave soldier.

"Can I help you ma'am?" a hefty farmer asked from behind the stand. "Um, how must for ten?" she asked. "they're a penny each ma'am." She produced the coins and placed the apples in her basket, "Big family eh?" he observed, "Four girls." She responded off handedly.

She pulled out her list and searched for a stand selling thread, she had used her last bit mending Lucille's skirts. She felt a hard shove on her shoulder and gasped as the apples went tumbling to the ground, she silently curse and knelt down to find the apples. "Here let me help you." A man offered, "Oh thank you." She said gratefully, the man helped her scavenge the now bruised apples and returned them to the basket. "thank you so much I…" she looked up and stopped instantly.

Tan skinned, Blue eyes, brown hair, mid-forties, it was the man who pretended to be a British soldier, she stuttered, "Thank you, I uh, I have to go." She darted between people to get as far away as possible. "Oh god, Oh god." She breathed. She felt like she was missing something and groaned with distress when she realize she must have dropped her basket.

She summoned her courage and started back to the place she had retreated but stopped, "Ma'am!" she turned, the man pushed past people carrying her basket, "You dropped your basket."

"Yes, thank you… again." She propped the basket on her hip, "I'm sorry I just…"

"You recognized me." He sighed, "I'm sorry about that, but I assure you we meant you and your family no harm." Margaret nodded, unsure if she believed him. "I never did learn your name." he noted. "I'm surprised you don't know it already." She sighed and eyed the other people who scattered about market. "All I know is that you are a Colonels Wife."

"Well, that's all you really need to know." She said curtly, "But if I may ask, how did you know we were imposters?" Margaret sighed, eager to end this conversation, "Sir I have lived around Army men my entire life, not only can I spot one a mile away, I can also tell you his division, rank and what type of gun powder he uses."

She looked him up and down, "Standard Black Powder." She demonstrated, "Your shirt and hands are stained with it, you also make your own bullets, your hands are burnt and calloused from melting lead and handleding the cast iron tools used to make bullets."

"That is amazing." He said in awe. "Yes, well I must be going, my children must be driving the neighbors up the wall by now."

"I know that feeling." The man muttered, "You have kids?" she asked.

"Seven"

"Good lord." Margaret gasped, "How do you manage?"

"Well I come from a big family so."

Margaret nodded understandingly, "Well like I said I must be off." She nodded respectfully and turned to walk away. After being a few yards away she ducked behind a stand with a gasp.

"What. The .Hell. Was .That?" she said with each breath. "Okay, its okay, minor lapse in judgment, it's not like you gave away any crucial information," she calmed herself, probably looking daft to others. "Besides." She looked around, "He's just a colonial."

Regaining her former pleasant demeanor, she searched for her remained items and then returned to the cart where the horses stomped their hooves impatiently, "You think you had an off day," she muttered, "You should hear about mine" she flicked the reigns and started off to her neighbor's house where she gathered her children, thanked the couple and started off to their home.

"Mother, was our house burnt down?" Lucille asked, "What, no! Why would you ask such a silly question?" Margaret was slightly taken aback by the question.

"I heard talking to the pastor, and he said it was amazing we survived and that he heard that the Militia had burnt down people's houses." The child explained. Margaret mental curse Prudence Clemmins and her loud mouth, "Listen to me children, you con not always fully believe the things you overhear, because the truth has a way of getting twisted when people pass it along.

"Mother, has father ever killed anyone?"

"Lucille it is not polite to ask such questions, and I do not know, and you are never to ask him." Marmee said firmly.

"Mother?" Margaret pray for a simple question that was easy to answer, not such luck. "When men die in a war, where do they go?"

"Hmm, what a question, I guess it just depends" Margaret replied, "Depends on what?" one of the twins asked, "well, it depends on whether they fought on the side of the goodies or the baddies." Margaret explained, "Your father is fighting for England on the side of the goodies."

Lucille thought on this for a moment before opening her mouth again, "But how do you know who the Goodies and the Baddies are?"

Margaret sighed, "Enough questions, you'll never go to war." Lucille rolled her eyes and sat back down in the back as they pulled up to the house.

**So sorry this one took long, but I've been so busy, any way incase you didn't catch any of the movie references in the last chapter it was. **

"**this conversation is all for not" ~Brave**

**The conversation between Marmee and her father was from the Princess Bride**

"**I assure you sir fear is not in my vocabulary" "No, but it is in your eyes." ~from the Princess Diaries.**

**And the conversation in this chapter between Lucille and Margaret was from the movie "The Others." Staring Nicole Kidman.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Again I do not own the patriot, sorry for my lack of updateing, first I was bedridden with illness and now I am in ohio where I can only get wifi at the public library. **

Marmee entered her vacant house that held a less then welcoming presence. She sighed and dawned her baking apron, "Well, like I always say, It never does one well to cling to the past. You girls gather in the parlor and review your lessons while I make the bread." She instructed her children who glanced around the quiet house.

They hesitate for a moment, wondering how a person could bounce back so quickly after such an event the previous day. Margaret measured out the flour and glanced up at her frozen daughters expectantly, "Well go one, spit spot." She urged them. They muttered under their breath and rushed up the steps to retrieve their lesson books and scripture books. Margaret nodded, satisfied with herself and delicately measured out the proper amount of salt.

The girls' footsteps echoed through the house as they returned in mass down the stairs, there was no school house in town and it was too far a walk to the next town, so the Tavington sisters were homeschooled by their mother. "Kimberly, you first. Open your reader to page 10 and read me the passage under the picture." Margaret instructed the younger of the twins.

Kimberly opened the thin book and began to read the neatly written print, "The house and the family." She read aloud, "We all live in a house with our family. The family inclu-incl" she stumbled and Margaret waited patiently while Bridget's hand shot in the air, "Oh oh oh, Me me me me , pick me." She pleaded.

"No, no, let her work it out." Marmee insisted, "Sound it out Kimberly." She pushed gently.

"Includes." Kimberly tried unsure, Marmee smiled and nodded, "Very good, please continue."

"The family includes children, parents and grandparents. We must never fight with our family, and we must always be respectful and kind to one another." She finished it off proudly. And Margaret nodded, "Very well done Kimberly," she turned to Lucille, "Lucille do you have your spelling done?"

Lucille groaned and nodded, "All of it?" Marmee drawled out. "Well, I have most of it done." Lucille hummed, Margaret sighed and shook her head, "You know the deal,no play until school work is done." She turned to her eldest, "Margo, how far have you gotten in Midsummer Night's Dream?"

"a quarter of the way through." Margo cracked open her tattered book. "Be sure to pay attention and not just skim through, I will be testing you on it when you're done." Margaret cautioned her.

The matriarch rolled and pounded the heavy, sticky dough, every so often coating her hands in the powdery white flour to prevent sticking. The children studied from the individual booklets until the clock struck eleven thirty, "Alright girls, take a break, drink some water and stretch your legs." Margaret instructed the girls who stood on their numb feet and rolled their creaking necks.

"Mother may we go outside?" Lucille pleaded and gazed longingly out at the cheerful sunny afternoon. "You most certainly may not." Margaret said firmly, "Please, we'll stay in the front yard and we'll be very careful, please please please PLEASE!" soon all the children where begging their mother to allow them to go outside.

"Alright, But stay within sight of the porch and no roughhousing." Margaret conceded and retrieved her mending, she might as well get some work done. The four children scattered out of the front down and gleefully frolicked around the grassy yard. Kimberly spotted a dirty ragged cloth ball and began a game of catch with Bridget, while Lucille snatched a long rope from a low hanging tree branch and began to skip with it. Margo settled for a calm and leisurely swing on the wooden swing the field workers installed for the children.

The family didn't have enough money for slaves, not the Margaret would allow William to buy any if they did. She firmly believed that no person should be bought and sold like property, regardless of race. Instead men from the town or surrounding town worked in the fields for pay. She sat in a fine wicker rocking chair, one of the only good pieces of furniture she brought with her from England, and carefully mended a torn hem on one of Margo's dresses.

"Mother, I've been meaning to ask you something." Margo hastened to her mother's side, "There is going to be a dance at the Betten's house for their daughter's birthday, may I please go?" Her mother shrugged, "I don't see why not, when is it?" Margo grinned, "Next Tuesday night, Oh thank you Mother!" Margo swung her arms around her mother's neck."

"Do you think I can take the wagon into town to buy a dress?" she squeeled, "What's wrong with your church dress?" Margaret inquired, "Mother, it's the same dress I've had since I was ten, just mended and lengthened."

"You may wear one of my dresses, I'm sure we can mend something to fit you." Margret compromised "Very well." Margo agreed, they corralled the children back into the house around twelve and that evening Margo rushed to her mother's room where Margaret was unlocking the giant leather truck that rested at the foot of the bed. "Let's see here," She pulled a wrinkled Yellow dress from her youth with small pink flowers printed on it.

Margo scrunched her nose at the unsavory dress, "You're right, I never liked it either." Marmee agreed and refolded the dress. "Well first let's see what colors you look good in." Margo had long brown hair, like her father's, which reached her elbows, her eye however where like her Grandmother's, dark chocolate brown.

Margo differed from Lucille in this way, since she took more after her mother's side that her father's, Lucille was the spitting image of her father. The twins however, looked incredibly like Margaret's mother, with strawberry blond hair, but had silver eyes like their mother.

"I'd say, green, blue, red and pink." Marmee finally confirmed. "How's this one?" She presented a full length forest green dress, with long sleeves and a turtle neck like neckline. "Wow, uh, it's lovely. But don't you like it's a bit…." Margo tried to find a word for the out of date dress, "Old?" she put bluntly,

"It was the height of fashion in my day, I assure you." Marmee defended, "But if you insist.." she rummaged some more in the trunk. "Oh this one is nice." She removed an elegant sky blue dress, "I remember this dress, I couldn't fit in it now of course." She shrugged and tucked the dress away. "Why not?" Margo asked.

"Well my girl, while childbirth gave me the four greatest things in my life, it also ruined my chances of every fitting into this dress again."

"Mother, how old were you when you married father?" Margo asked, "I was about seventeen I think."

"Father said that you didn't like him when you first met him."

Margaret sighed, "I'm afraid not, I had a preconceived notion that I would hate him, but time passed, and soon I grew to love him."

"I hope I marry a man I love." Margo sighed, "Oh you will my dear, I promise to never force you into marriage like my parents did."

"What's this?" Margo picked up a carefully wrapped bundle of fabric. "That, Margo, was my wedding gown." Marmee took the package and delicately unwrapped it. The dress was just as she remembered, only slightly more yellow with age. "Mother, it's so beautiful." Margo gushed.

"It was my mothers, and maybe one day you will wear it at your wedding."

"Ah, here we go." Marmee picked up a red dress, "Try this on."

Margo undressed and slipped into the red dress. It was the typical style of a party dress, but with several classy touches, there was a fine white lace that encircled the neckline and the sleeves stopped at Margo's elbows. Three white ivory buttons trailed down the bodice and the skirt bore a section of white down the otherwise wine red skirt.

"Lovely, how does it fit?" Marmee pulled down the skirt a bit, "It's a bit tight around the chest." Margo gasped as the dress tightly held her in. "Well we can loosen that, I'm afraid I wasn't as blessed as you. But yes, I think this do very well." Margaret nodded, "Alright, take it off and set it in that chair, I will loosen it tomorrow. But now, It's late and I need to get the girls to bed."


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own The Patriot, btw I got a question on what part of the movie this is in, and well this chapter is around the time Tavington ordered the attacks on the militia men's houses. Enjoy. P.S for those of you who watch Game of Throne, try and spot the Game of throne reference! **

"Stop squirming." Marmee ordered as she buttoned up the back of Margo's dress. "Remember the rules" she lectured. Margo rolled her eyes, "Stay in a group and if a boy gets any ideas, tell him my last name." she chanted, "That's my girl." Marmee nodded and stepped back.

"Mother, what will I do if someone asks me to dance?" Margo worried. "Just smile and say, 'I'd be delighted.'" Margaret demonstrated with a curtsy. "You know how to dance, and if you forget just let him lead."

"I wish I could go." Lucille whined, "When you're older." Margret assured the pouting eleven year old. "Give Mrs. Betten my regards and behave." Marmee handed Margo her white shawl in case it got cold and waved as the eldest child entered a carriage that held three other giggling girls.

It was nearly eight O'clock in the evening as the sun began to set behind the tall trees and the sky held a golden orange hue to it. Marmee sat in her rocking chair and carefully embroidered a delicate white pattern on a thin white cotton veil. The twin's seventh birthdays were growing nearer and that meant that soon they would have their first communion. Hopefully William would be home in time to see it.

Bridget and Kimberly played some sort of hand game and hummed a tune with it while Lucille played a one person card game on the rug.

Cicadas and frogs filled the night air with their songs, "Mother, may we go pick blackberries for dessert?" Lucille asked suddenly. "Dessert?" Margaret laughed, "You just had dinner, plus it's too dark out."

"Please, we'll be very careful. And it will only take five minutes at most." Lucille pleaded, soon the twins followed their older sister's lead. Marmee sigh, "How about, I go get the berries, and by the time I get back you better have you night gowns on and your toys put away." She stood as the girls scrambled to their tasks and grabbed a small basket to carry back the sweet black fruit that grew on the bushes behind the house.

The night was warm and full of life as she breathed in the thick hot air. An oddly familiar smell hit her and she sniffed the air once more. Smoke? She looked around the night and spotted a bright orange glow far in the distance. The farm hands had just begun to leave for the night and Marmee stopped one, a freed slave woman named Clara.

"Clara, I was wondering if you could take some black berries to the children, I'm afraid I have something to attend to." She slipped the woman some coins and the basket and walked quickly across the large wheat field.

There was a small house a few miles away from them, and granted they were patriots, Marmee and the woman, Slone Kibbit, still were friendly enough. The smell of smoke grew stronger as the light grew brighter and larger.

Once she was a few yards away, she gasped and ran forward with purpose. The crackle and roar of flames filled the air and destroyed the small cottage. Men on horses whooped and circled and her small daughter Anne. Marmee rushed forward to a man in a British uniform who watched the burning house passively.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded. "Orders of General Cornwallis, Missus." He said haughtily. "But these people are innocent they have done nothing wrong!" Margaret barked.

The man slapped her across the face swiftly, "Watch your tone woman." Marmee gasped and clutched her face and spat at the man. With a twisted look of fury the man raised his hand once more, Margaret cut him off with a blow of her own.

"I am Margaret Grace Tavington, I am the wife of Colonel William Tavington, leader of the Green Dragoons, and the mother of his children. And the next time you raise your hand to me it will be the last time you have hands!" She barked. The man's head snapped at the Colonel's name and grew pale, "I beg your pardon Madam, I had no idea." He stammered.

"Tell your men to let those people be." She ordered, gaining the upper hand.

"Yes, of course Ma'am." He nodded and order the men menacing Slone and her daughter to cease. Margaret rushed to their side and helped them from the ground.

"Johnathan, my Son, they've Murdered my boy!" Slone sobbed hysterically.

"You much come with me now dear." Margret propped the sobbing woman up and helped her across the field, with little Anne in hand.

By the time they reached the house, had run out of tears to shed. Marmee lead them into the house where Clara took one look at them and rushed to help the limp woman to the table.

"Thank you Clara, you should get back to your children." Marmee excused her. The woman left and Margaret held Slone's hand while she shook her head moaning, "My son, my home, God in heaven why has this happened?" she wailed

"Shh, shh, hush now dear."

Slone's head snapped up, "Did you know about this?" she asked slightly betrayed, "No, Slone with God as my witness, I had no idea." Marmee assured her.

"How could this have happened, my Home, my family." She burst into fresh tears and Little Anne sat silently, probably too stunned to comprehend what just happened.

"Slone, you must rest here for the night. " Margaret insisted.

She set up the spare bed room and led the mother and daughter in, Anne was asleep as soon as she lay down but Slone sat and stared out the window. "It will be alright Slone, I swear it." Margret closed the door. Giving the grieving woman some privacy.

Margaret peeked into children's rooms and found them sound sleep. Down stair the front door opened, Marmee rushed down the stairs and found Margo just getting in.

"Mother, what's happened? I saw fire and Smoke." The eldest girl asked her mother. "The Kibbit's house has been destroyed," Margaret informed her mournfully. "But why? Their Patriots, the militia would never harm them." Margo asked.

"It wasn't the militia." Marmee sighed, "It was the British, Dragoons to be exact."

"God in heaven. Do you think that father…?"

"I don't know, I plan to write him, I have bad feeling Margo, there is trouble." The mother sighed honestly.

" you mean father is _in _trouble, or father _is_ the trouble?" Margo stressed the words. "I mean either he's _in _trouble, or he's _going to _be." Marmee clarified and smoothed her daughter's hair, "But you needn't worry about it darling, just go to bed and we will talk in the morning." She kissed Margo's forehead and sent her upstairs.

Margo slowly crept into her room, Lucille moaned and awoke slightly, "What's going on?" she yawned.

"Father's in trouble" Margo sighed and recalled her mother's stiff movements, that only happened when she was mad about something..

Half asleep Lucille fell back to sleep after brushing off her sister's comments.

_(The next afternoon.) _

Margaret leaned against a tree, waiting for her husband. Last night she had sent William an urgent letter and told him to meet her here, a few hours away from the house by horse.

"Margaret?" William emerged from the thick wood, "Is every thing alright?" he approached her. Margaret stepped away from him stiffly.

"William, I love you very much and that is why I am going to give you a moment to explain, why did a group of Dragoons burn down the Kibbit's house last night?" she whispered.

William thought quickly, Tell Margaret the truth a risk her being furious at him, or lie and feel guilty afterwards.

"I have no idea what you mean." He lied skillfully, Marmee squinted at him hardly, "You son of a bitch!" she barked harshly.

Dammit, he thought, "Margaret I'm sorry, but this is war."

"They killed Her Son William, he was only a year older than Lucille for God sake!" she covered her mouth and paced the forest floor. "He was only a CHILD"

"Margaret please I…" she held her hand out to stop him, "have there been others?"

"What?"

"How many children have you killed William?" she asked quietly.

He stiffened, "personally, two."

She stood with her back to him and her arms crossed tightly, William approached her slowly and held her close from behind, "I am sorry Margaret, if I could go back and stop it I would…" She jerked away and glared at him, "Tell that to Slone Kibbit." She hissed and stomped through the woods. Closely followed by her husband.

"Margaret, there is a chance that the boy is still alive." He offered. "Oh I didn't realize that being a Colonel grant you the power of resurrection, " she retorted sarcastically.

"Would you just listen to me?" He grabbed her arm, "When did you get so bitter?"

"I'm not bitter." She replied bitterly with a bitter expression

"Look, all prisoner of war are kept in Charleston, South Carolina, I will be returning there in a few days, and I promise to God I will do all in my power to free the boy, if he is there." He offered.

Margaret stopped in her tracks, "Why?"

"Why else, you're my wife, the mother of my children, and I love you." He smirked charmingly.

She didn't meet his gaze, "Margaret please, I'm putting my neck on the chopping block for you. For a colonial no less."

She rolled her eyes and smiled, "I love you to." She muttered. "Now I need to get back to the men and you need to get home. Give the children my love."

She grinned and kissed him passionately, "See you in Charleston." She muttered in to it.

"The things I do for love." He sighed


End file.
